King's Bane
by jsarahs
Summary: "From the women I've had in my chambers." His voice was low as his native Wu spilled out in a patronisingly slow pace. "None of them have been quite,"—his hand dropped to touch her knee, sliding up, up her thigh. She tensed, tried to ignore the fear pulsing in her ears—"so"—she wouldn't show weakness—"interesting." He had snatched her dagger out of its sheath. (Zutara Assassin AU)
1. Chapter 1

She could hear music from the streets below.

Peering over the roof she'd been perched on since dawn, Katara caught a glimpse of the roaring festivities six floors beneath. Men and women danced along the edges of her vision with bright dragonfly floats and thick ribbons swirling in the humid air. Drunk, celebratory cheers rang in her ears, the drums loud enough to shake the houses.

She focused on the guards stationed outside the palace gates atop the hill. Her gaze drifted down towards the ones that stumbled over their feet with tinges of firewhiskey on their breath, gripping scantily clad women to their metal chests. One girl giggled at something a soldier murmured into her ear and brushed her hand down the overly optimistic ridges of his armour.

Katara looked away, the image of herself in those thin scraps pinging off the walls of her brain.

"You are so funny," she had tittered into his neck.

It was her and it wasn't, all the same. An off-kilter version of her that sang a siren's song edged with promise and danger. She pushed her breasts together under the lewd stare of the sorry soldier. It was more tedious than a firm slash of her trusty blade along the column of his neck, but it had been the only choice. She had to remain undetected for as long as possible and leaving a bloody trail of guards in her wake was going to, quite literally, ring alarm bells.

"What say you and I find someplace more private?" the stocky bastard had slurred into the ear of her fox mask.

Beautiful, Katara had thought when swiping it off a nearby mistress. It was adorned with bronze feathers that stood as tall as a crown, jewels that caught and danced with the torchlight. The slits revealed blue eyes so striking they turned heads and promised trouble. Her bronze skin was a clear giveaway that she was a foreigner, a zealous tourist or a whore bought and sold for pleasure

—it didn't matter. It seemed that the pale folk here enjoyed the exotic allure of an outsider.

She'd agreed with convincing fervour, though she doubted her consent was worth a dime. One satisfying tug of a water whip around his cock and she'd be dragged away to rot behind bars. The lesson would foil months of preparation. She allowed the soldier to haul her down a darkened, spiralling alleyway.

The ring of keys to the security entrance clanged against her hip. Poor Bo, he was probably waking up from a deep sleep about now, the first throbs of a concussion seeping in.

The Festival of Lights was unlike anything she had ever seen. The natives danced all night, adorning shades of the sun, ducking under paper dragons and foregoing sleep for drunken mistakes. There was a small part of her that hoped she'd be close to the borders by the time morning came, and with it the grief of their dead King. These people were wild and free and a small part of her wanted them to forgive her.

There was a churn in her stomach and she thought of home. The last time she'd thought of the southern tribe, she'd cried herself into a fever. It hadn't lasted long as she had developed an attuned talent for healing. This time, sickening guilt came in waves with an onslaught of cherished memories of the family she had left behind. A tear tickled down her cheek. She let it fall.

Katara dragged the back of her gloved hand across her cheek, the fabric rough and itchy against her damp skin.

Her earliest memories were of Gran-gran, the resident psychic feeding their nightmares with stories of the Fire Nation. The tales were simple enough, fire-breathing monsters that bared their sharp teeth at children and pillaged the weak to fuel their ravenous hunger. Katara didn't have to worry of nightmares. She hadn't slept well since she was eight-years-old watching a Fire Nation sword tear her mother in two.

The bells by the temple chimed twelve.

People below cheered even louder, they had no intention of sleeping tonight. Katara pulled her scarf up to rest on the tip of her nose. When she exhaled, it was muffled and warm and shaky.

She whispered a prayer to her saints and stepped off the edge of the roof.

…

The walls surrounding the Palace were too tall to scale.

Katara had studied the guard rotation every night-fall for the last week from the highest branches of the trees dotting the outskirts of royal territory. In five minutes, the guards would begin their nightly game of poker, the perimeter left mostly clear if you were a fast five-foot-something cloaked in shadows. She'd left the keys in a small hole beneath a tree for her escape.

She stared down at her hands. They were wrapped entirely in black fabric apart from her fingers. She flexed them into and out of a fist. The guards were easier to deal with when grouped off so neatly. She didn't have enough time or water in her pouch to take care of each individually.

Katara cracked her neck and unwrapped her scarf. She walked straight for them.

"Hello? Can you help me? I am lost." She said in her meekest voice, making sure her Wu was heavily accented.

The guards darted up at her voice, some reaching for their swords.

"How—how did you get in here?" A stocky one yelled at her. She had no doubt he was angrier with himself at how a tourist wandered into Palace grounds in the middle of the night.

Her eyes watered. "Oh, I am very sorry. I, how do you say—need help?"

"You have to get out of here, right now."

"Wait! Look at her, she's harmless." A scrawny one from the back perked up, his eyes lingering on her chest.

"And fruitful." One laughed, assuming she didn't know the colloquial term.

She batted her lashes and gave them an innocent smile.

"Oh please, kind sirs. You are all so strong and how do you say? Handsome."

Unsurprisingly, that seemed to work. A few of them blushed, puffed out their chests and made a move towards her. She waited till they were closely packed and stumbling over each other.

She froze them into a block of ice.

Katara gave herself a few moments to admire her handiwork. They were neatly crammed into a huge block of ice that wouldn't melt in this weather for hours. Some of them were mid-step. She caught their lewd stares and devious smirks. Maybe she'd keep them like this forever.

She drew her scarf back around herself and ducked back into the night.

…

His fingers thrummed against the table impatiently. Where was she? He felt on edge without his General, especially this close to a meeting with the Elders. She was meant to bring word of the refugees thirty minutes ago. He knew the Elders were wary, to say the least, about his recent asylum mandate. He didn't think he could stand another meeting with the bigots without leaving the room in flames.

"Zuko, are you listening to me?"

The Fire Lord refocused his gaze and gave her a smile.

"Of course Mai."

She rolled her heavily lined eyes. "Well? Fire lilies or roses?"

Zuko didn't know what to make of her sudden interest in the wedding. It was unlike her to show much interest in anything. She was a gifted fighter and could probably kill him without as much as lifting her finger. But they didn't talk. And she certainly didn't sit around the palace contemplating centrepieces.

They had been promised to each other before birth. Zuko hadn't argued, least of all when they had taken each others' virginities. Mai was the daughter of a very rich Noble and important political figure. She was beautiful and fertile with healthy family genes. And sometimes, before he got so busy with Fire Lord duties, she would let him between her legs. Their alliance simply made sense. After his twenty-fifth birthday, plans for their wedding had just set naturally into motion.

"Whatever you prefer." He said, taking a sip of tea. He grimaced as he set it down. It was bitter. The leaves had soaked for far too long. He would have to get Uncle to teach the staff a thing or two.

"I cannot do this alone."

"You don't have to do it at all. We have staff taking care of all the arrangements." He didn't have to notice her scowl to immediately regret the words.

"You don't care for my input in our wedding?"

Zuko had always possessed the impressive talent of fitting his entire foot into his mouth.

"That is not what I meant…"

Mai opened her mouth to ask him what it was that he meant exactly. Her words were stopped short by the doors being thrown open. He thanked Agni for his General's impeccable timing.

"Sorry for the wait, I broke a nail."

Azula threw them a dazzling smile, unbuckling the lapels of her armour and handing them off to a waiting maid.

"You didn't have to wait on my account." Azula said as she walked over to her seat, pressing a greeting kiss to the air beside her brother's cheek. She winked in the direction of her longtime friend whose fingers were tight around the handle of her fork.

"We wouldn't have had to wait if you were on time." said Zuko.

His sister stuck her tongue out at him. For a few moments as they tucked into dinner, there was nothing but the clanging of chopsticks against plates or the quiet sipping of wine. Azula lifted her glass and it was refilled immediately. The maid blushed at the smirk the General gave her, scurrying away with her hands clasped tight.

She looked over the rim of her cup to her brother and then his fiancé.

"And how are the almost-weds?"

Mai said nothing as she soundlessly pried at her soup. Zuko cleared his throat and made a note to kill his sister after.

"Busy." He said, avoiding eye contact with Mai. "And the refugees?"

"Settling in well," She told him after swallowing a steamed dumpling. "The transition will be a hard one but they are thankful for asylum."

Zuko nodded. "Arrange for more medics to be sent. They have to be vaccinated against any local fevers. Many of them should be farmers or teachers; arrange them work and send their children to schools as soon as they've settled in."

"Already taken care of." Azula told him. She shrugged at his surprise. "Somebody has to do your job."

Zuko narrowed his eyes and bit his cheek to keep from smiling.

After dinner, Mai's chair screeched against the floor.

"Not staying the night?" Azula said slowly, quirking a brow.

Mai folded her hands in front of her as she stood. Zuko stood from his seat. Azula watched them from her seat for a few moments before downing the rest of her wine and standing up in a formal goodbye.

"Goodnight Azula, Zuko."

Azula dropped back to her cushioned seat and undid her topknot. Her fingers thread through her silky hair and she sighed in relief.

"And what is that look?" Zuko asked when she looked at him curiously.

"When was the last time you two had sex?"

"Azula."

"It's a fair question, brother."

"It's inappropriate and none of your business."

"That long?"

Zuko glowered.

"I imagine Mai is rather stiff in bed. Or is she the kinky sort, knife-play and all? Tell me when I'm getting warmer."

"You're drunk."

"You're lonely."

Azula felt a pang of guilt when the mirth disappeared from his eyes. An apology settled itself on the tip of her tongue. She leaned forward and refilled his glass with wine instead.

"And Ty Lee?" He said after a long sip.

"Enjoying the island. She writes about it endlessly." She let out a dry laugh. "The Kyoshi have her heart."

"You know that's not true."

"Well." Her lips pressed into a thin line. She ran her fingertip over the rim of her glass. "They have months to steal it."

Her brother studied her for a long time. Her shoulders, usually the epitome of posture, almost drooped. Her eyes were glazed in a way that had nothing to do with the wine.

She blinked and was Azula again. A tinkling laugh. "I'm drunk."

"You're lonely." He said softly.

"Ah," She smiled and pinched his temple."But you can't see it in my eyes."

…

Tui and La save her.

She craned her head back to catch a glimpse of the balcony outside his private chambers. Her only option, she realised weeks ago, was to climb.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and focused on bending what water was left in her pouch. It formed a tall lasso that flew up, up and swung around the base of a pillar. She opened her eyes and smiled. It was thin, but it'd do. She tugged the end of the makeshift rope and the water jiggled slightly, obeying her commands. She turned it to jelly as she pulled herself up onto the wall. When her feet were planted firmly along the exterior and her body stood perpendicular to the building, the jelly became ice under her fingertips.

She walked slowly up the side of the palace, her hands grappling onto the ice and pulling herself further up till the wind blew into her eyes and the air felt thinner.

When she caught the edge of the railing with her fingers, the door slammed and noises filled the room. It jostled her concentration and the iced rope gave way, shattering and leaving her hanging from the balcony.

Katara bit her cheek till it bled to keep herself from screaming. Her fingers were too slippery to hold onto the railing. She had to do something before they lost what grip they had.

In a hasty decision, she used her feet to push herself up a little more. If she failed to catch hold of something, she was about to fall to her death.

Her hands scraped at the top of the marbled handrail and she thanked her spirits over and over. Using all her strength, she hoisted herself over it and tumbled onto the balcony as soundlessly as she could. It was dark enough in the room that she remained unseen, even with the doors open so welcomely.

She waited in the shadows for ten, fifteen minutes till his breathing evened out. She had to strain to listen, the room was large enough for an echo. She slipped off her shoes so they wouldn't click against the floors.

When the waterbender was convinced he was fast asleep, she padded into the room, not once slipping from the dark corners and crevices. The room felt as large as her entire village. Her heart pounded so loudly she worried if he could suddenly wake at the sound.

Katara couldn't believe it. She was inches away from the Fire Lord Zuko, sleeping peacefully with the weight of thousands of corpses on his shoulders. It made her sick to her stomach how serene he looked. His hair, midnight black and unruly, fell over his unmistakable scar. His sharp features were soft and faint, the muscles in his face slack and tired.

Like this, in that single moment, he looked like a man.

Katara unsheathed her dagger and braced it above her head.

…

Zuko heard a shuffle in his room as soon as the door shut behind him.

Twenty minutes later he could feel the heat of another person skirting around his bed.

Feigning sleep, he waited till the intruder had convinced themselves they had the upper hand. He heard the distinguishable clang of a knife being unsheathed, a soft swoosh as it cut through the air towards his heart.

He caught it by the hilt before it could pierce him. His free hand reached out and clasped the intruder's throat. They struggled against his tight hold. He clenched his teeth and lurched them back till they hit the wall. He was quick to his feet, slamming the assassin back into the wall at their desperate struggle. They scrambled to their feet, slipping the dagger into the black folds of their disguise.

"Hmm." he leaned closer, pulling down her mask so it pooled around her neck. His tongue ran dry, heavy in his mouth when he saw his attacker. He'd known to expect a female the moment soft curves, ample and taut, struggled against him. But, this. Her skin was dark and rich under his hand. Her eyes, hard-set in a glare, were so startlingly blue Zuko had to remind himself of the circumstances.

"I don't know you and yet you want to kill me."

"How impressive." She bit back, her accent thick and clipped.

His lips quirked up, briefly, surprised.

Familiarity tugged at a shadowy corner of his mind but he couldn't place her foreign tongue or her features. He hadn't expected her to speak fluent Wu. A foreign attack settled better in his stomach than treason from his very own. Maybe a refugee from the Northern tribes? Surely not.

Katara reeled with shame and fear and dread. She had failed. She had failed to slay the Dragon King and now her sharp tongue was bound to get her killed if nothing else. She would not beg for her life. She would pray silently to her spirits and face the strike of the sword with her head held high.

There was a sudden harsh knocking at the door, followed by, "Your Highness, is everything okay?"

This was it. Guards would storm in and she would be dragged into whatever dungeon or prison or hell-pit this palace was built on. When he hesitated, eyes unwavering in their pursuit for answers on her face, there was a silly surge of hope.

"Yes. Do not bother me for the rest of the night."

Katara's jaw felt as if it would unhinge. Was this a trick? Even so, she was spared more precious moments of life. She was certain her spirits watched over her as his intrigue trumped any sensible precaution. She wondered if he now thought himself the predator and her the prey. Perhaps she was. Suddenly a cold, hard cell seemed almost appealing.

"I must say, from the women I've had in my chambers." His voice was low and rough as his native Wu spilled out in what Katara considered to be a patronisingly slow pace. "None of them have been quite,"—his hand dropped to touch her knee, sliding up, up her thigh. She tensed, then tried to ignore the fear pulsing in her ears; the heat seeping from his hand, through the coarse fabric of her trousers to her bare flesh—"so"—she clenched her teeth but kept her eyes locked on his. She wouldn't show weakness, no—"interesting."

He had snatched her dagger out of its sheath.

Pulling back far enough that Katara realised how close they had been, Zuko twirled it once in his hand. Shit. She had been so careful, tucking it neatly within the folds of her robes. He ran his finger along the handle she'd carved, then the blade. He could tell she had made it herself, with the questionable workmanship and unintelligible carvings on the wood. His long fingers wrapped around the handle and then, he threw it sideways across the room. It sank into the wall to her left, almost buried to the hilt.

She hissed something foreign but he didn't have to be a genius to know it was a curse.

He looked at her then, curiosity bright on his smooth features. He didn't recognise the language but the curl of her tongue coerced that niggling semblance of familiarity to the forefront of his mind. His gaze held hers for just a moment before casting downwards — in search of more weapons or more reasons to grope her? Katara could not tell.

This is when she should have ran, fast and hard. If she jumped from the terrace, she'd have to heal her broken limbs. Her water pouch was empty — she had wasted her only lifeline.

He leaned into her again, this time close enough that she could smell him. Wood and spices and smoke. She struggled against his grip but his legs braced her tight between his body and the wall. His palms pressed against her clammy ones, fingers brushing up against her hands and leaving a trail of gooseflesh before they pushed up and deftly yanked the blades out from under her sleeves. They clattered to the marble floor, shattering on impact.

She bared her teeth at him just as he had the gall to smirk. "I do hope you have more. I'm having so much fun finding them."

She didn't, but she'd use her bare hands to strangle the life out of him if she had to.

"I'm going to rip your dick off and feed it to the fishes." Caution be damned.

Shock lit up his eyes and he laughed. There was a pang of humiliation in her gut that melted into a confused flurry of nerves at the genuine, molten sound. His throat was the second thing she'd rip out.

"What is your name, assassin?"

"You can pry it off my cold, dead lips."

"You know, I just might."

But she didn't hear him. She was suddenly distracted. Her body practically hummed, for it sensed water nearby. It called out to her like a siren song. It was all she needed to break her foot free and drive it into his shin, hard. He almost keeled over in pain, giving her enough space to gather her wits. She couldn't see the water but it felt close enough to beckon.

"Go to Hell—" Her words stopped short at the sight of the flames that engulfed each of his fists.

"That is no way to speak to your Fire Lord." He growled, the hoarse words shooting up her spine. The flames burned brilliantly. The smoke rose into her nose, filling her mouth. She coughed, dizzy and unable to bend. Was he going to burn her alive? She wouldn't put it past him.

"You are no Lord of mine." Katara mustered, playing her minimal odds and yanking out the long, sharp pin that had kept her hair in a tight bun. She held it to his neck and willed herself not to cough from the fumes. Her hair, now free, cascaded in loose waves down her back to brush the backs of her thighs. Zuko's breath hitched and she felt her cheeks burn.

Before she could react, he reached up and broke her measly weapon in two with his fist. But she could breathe again and her head cleared up and now—pushing off the wall, Katara extended her arm and pulled it back sharply. A bubble of water flew across the room. It split into two shards of ice that sliced through the air just as the Fire Lord growled and pulled sharply at her leg. She caught the makeshift daggers before she fell to her knees with crushing pain. He looked at her through the long strands of his hair, his eyes wide and his mouth set into a snarl.

She kneeled before him, chest heaving, picturing what he saw. A woman scorned, wild hair unruly over stormy eyes and daggers of ice in each fist. A fitting final image before his death, she thought.

"Any last words, Fire Lord?" The ice thaws her skin, but she doesn't care.

"Do it." He said.

Silence, then. "You will not trick me, Heathen—"

He surged towards her, took her wrists before she could scurry away and held her weapons to each side of his throat. She could feel him swallow hard beneath them.

"No trick. Go on, do it." Zuko told her harshly. The room spun around her.

Katara's mouth parted but the words were lost in her throat. She pressed the tips further into his neck, drawing blood and watching his face the entire time. He closed his eyes but his fingers closed over hers. They helped warm her skin and regain control of her frozen hands.

"What are you waiting for?" He snapped, his eyes boring into hers, challenging.

She didn't know. She didn't know.

Zuko tilted his head and nodded ever so slightly.

He melted the ice till water washed away the trickle of blood down his neck. Two long flames licked at each of her hands, burning her, starting the pyre she thought he'd crucify her on. She screamed, tears welling up in her eyes, her vision blurry and red. Her raw palms slipped on the cool marble as she scrambled away from him. He had evaporated the water, then suddenly leapt up and wretched her by the elbow, slamming her against the wall. If she wasn't reciting her final prayers, she would have appreciated the training he'd had that resulted in such fluidity and speed.

This time when he spoke, it wasn't to her. "Guards, summon Chief Advisor Iroh immediately."

There were confused murmurs and snuggling on the other side of the door as she struggled against his hold on her. His good eye narrowed as if it could command her into obedience. It didn't. They were going to lock her up. They probably had nifty little cells for peasants like her.

Angry and desperate, she pushed her fist into his face. He dodged it smoothly, but her nails caught his cheekbone and she clawed at him with unleashed rage. Burnt skin against burnt skin. He winced, swearing in pain. With royal blood drying under her nails, she hissed at him.

"I hope you rot in Hell, you murdering piece of—"

"Am I interrupting something, Your Highness?" A gentle voice wafted across the room, freezing her in place.

Zuko caught her wrist and slammed it back against the wall so hard she heard a snap of bone. Katara bit her tongue to keep from screaming.

"Only my assassination, uncle."

"Perhaps I should come back later, then."

The Fire Lord loosened his grip till he let go of her entirely. She chose the moment to run straight for the balcony.

Her feet hit the ground hard, spikes of pain shooting up her legs, hands begging to be healed the first chance she got. She could hear yelling and the sound of swords being unsheathed behind her, but focused on the blood pumping in her ears, the short distance to her freedom.

Katara climbed up one of the pillars and stepped onto the railing of the balcony, bracing herself for the jump. Drops of blood smeared the marble beneath her. Perhaps his, perhaps hers. Her vision spun, fraying at the edges. The pain of the burn was unbearable. She took a sharp breath through her nose, squeezing her eyes shut and stepping off, down—whoosh—

Armoured arms wrapped around her middle just before she was pulled back to collide against steel.

"Summon the Healers and ready the room in the West Wing. She will be staying there." There were murmurs of disapproval. If she could keep her eyes open, they would be wide with shock too. "Any of you lay a finger on her and I will cut it off myself."

Her vision went inky black.


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark for a long time.

Katara's head felt heavy, a growing ache in every muscle. After a few attempts, she managed to force her eyes open, immediately blinking against the glaring light. It stayed blurry at first. Where was she? Her lips parted, gasping for air. There was a pang in her chest at the jerk of motion but she ignored it. There was a shuffle to her left—someone was here. The instinct to flee kicked in but was abruptly stopped short as she realised it drained all her energy to merely lift her hand. The stranger's silhouette was a red blur to her adjusting vision as it walked out the door. There were unintelligible murmurs that followed.

Her eyes fell shut.

The next time she escaped sleep, everything felt sharper. Clarity pinched at her and suddenly she was not only awake, but felt somewhat alive. Her body was lying on something soft. She touched the silk and held it between her fingers. A bed. Katara struggled, but with a groan she lifted her torso till her elbows could shakily support her weight.

She forced herself to sit up despite the weight on her chest. There were no bindings on her hands or feet, her clothes were still intact but her hair fell loose around her. She noticed now that this was no prison or pre-execution dungeon. The bed she laid on was huge, a four-poster with the gossamer curtains pulled back. It was a generous guest room, she realised, with enough space for half her village. The walls were a deep inviting orange and the ceiling tiled black and gold. A window replaced the far wall, furnished with a cushion that ran along the length of the sill and stencilled screen doors closed off what she guessed was a bathroom. There were bandages on her feet, her palms. She almost shivered with the thought that someone had touched her.

Looking around, she spotted a cup on the bedside table. Water? She hadn't sensed it. Suddenly perking up, she tried to bend it to her will. The floor tipped sideways instead. Her head spun and she clutched it with a groan. She couldn't even feel her Chi. Katara panicked, swung her arm out and grabbed the cup. Leaves swam in yellow water. She sniffed it and reeled. It shattered on impact with the floor when she sent it flying.

"You're awake."

Katara jumped. She hadn't noticed anyone else in the room. With his voice came the crushing reality of her failure. Her fingers gripped tightly at the sheets.

"You drugged me?" She recognised the smell of the tea. It was an ancient Chi-blocking drug that suppressed bending.

The Fire Lord was blurry as he shrugged. "Insurance."

She was too cautious to move, choosing to stay exactly where she sat, letting her energy build till she knew what to do with it.

"What do you want?"

He slowly came into focus, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the double doors leading out of the room. He said nothing for a long time.

"What is your name?"

It was her turn to say nothing. She pursed her lips and squared her shoulders. She stared right at him so he knew she would not cower in fear despite the surreality of the moment. More silence. It was daytime, she noticed. She didn't know what day or the time. From the light that streamed through the window she could have guessed midday? There was no clock in the room to confirm.

His crown was missing. His hair fell around his face and into amber eyes. The scar she had heard about was more striking than she ever expected. Especially in the light of day when everything was raw and vivid, like the crippling shame of her failure. Her fingers flew to her neck instinctively with the thought of Ma. It was a relief when they came into contact with the familiar coolness of the pendant.

Zuko nods towards the binds on her hands. "How are you feeling?"

Her mind whirred with questions but she just bared her teeth. "What do you want?"

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. He looked tired, eyes drooping with lack of sleep. "I want nothing from you, Assassin."

"Why am I here?" Her voice rose with uncontrollable hysteria.

"You tried to kill me." Zuko told her simply. Tried. She failed. She failed. She flinched and bit back tears.

"You cannot imprison me." Yes, he can.

"Yes, I can." he shot her a lazy look that exuded authority. "But I won't."

When she stared at him in stunned silence, he pushed himself off the doors and slipped pale hands into the pockets of his trousers.

"You are not a prisoner here. You would have died from that fall—you're lucky to be alive. So, I will ask again, how do you feel?"

She snapped, "Do not play games, sinner! Why are you keeping me here?"

The Dragon King quirked a brow. "Am I?" he looked pointedly at her body and she grit her teeth. "You are not bound, nor are you incapable of leaving. The door is right here, as is the window if you're so Hell bent on jumping to your death. You can leave, no one will stop you." he paused. "However, I would prefer it if you stayed."

A beat, then. "You are insane."

"And," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "I will let you kill me."

The hairs on the back of her neck rose up. He was taunting her. He must be.

"This is a trick."

"I have no time for tricks, Assassin."

"Wha—"

"When the time is right, you may kill me. You can attempt all you want till then, but it will happen when I let it."

"You cannot be serious." Katara blurted out in disbelief. Was he really giving her permission to murder him?

"I don't care for jokes."

She had to think straight. Figure it out. He looked so calm, patient, even. It had to be a trap. Right? Right? "You—" She stopped herself. "Why?"

It was five beats, she counted, before he spoke, his eyes cast downward. "I'm afraid that is for another time. If you choose to stay." There is a gentle knock at the door and some hushed Wu. "Excuse me, I have a meeting. Food will be sent up to the room."

Zuko stopped with his hand on the door handle and turned his head to the side. It was his unmarred side. It dawned on Katara why so many of the natives saw him as handsome.

"The door only locks from the inside."

…

"You are far too young to lose your mind, brother."

Zuko sighed and pressed his face into his palms. "Azula."

"Zuko."

His sister sat across from him, her feet perched on the desk between them. She rarely used his given name. His uncle had wheeled a trolley of tea into his study alongside her thirty minutes ago. They brought questions with the Oolong and he felt betrayed. Iroh sat on a nearby chair and sipped quietly from his cup.

"You are all overreacting."

"You are housing an Assassin who just tried to slit your throat."

"She didn't go for my throat."

"Sozin help us."

"She went for my heart." He said, leaning forward and resting his arms on the cherrywood surface. He studied then picked up the glinting dagger. "Isn't that strange? There is too much bone and muscle to dig through to pierce a heart with this little thing." His fingertip skimmed the edge of the metal. "You would slice the neck clean and wait two, maybe three, minutes. She didn't just want me dead. She wanted…she wanted—"

"Revenge." Azula said, her eyes cast down. When they lifted they bright with curiosity. "Who does she work for?"

"No one." Iroh cut in smoothly before Zuko. "This isn't a political matter. It is personal."

Azula stared at her brother. "You are housing a vengeful Assassin who tried to cut out your heart. We cannot buy her."

"I don't wish to buy her."

"Of course not. We will ply her with hotcakes and famous Fire Nation hospitality instead!"

"She is not my prisoner. She is free to stay as long as she wishes. Make sure the staff is aware."

"And then what? It's the Summer Solstice. People from all over the nations visit on Xiàzhì."

"We will tell them she's an Ambassador. A foreign dignitary."

"Of where, exactly? We know nothing about her, brother."

"I know enough." He said firmly, cutting her a look. "You would do well not to question me."

She rolled her eyes, his authoritative tone falling on deaf ears.

"Are you worried about me?" He teased, hoping to ease the tension in the room.

"I have no interest in taking the throne." She told him sternly, standing and brushing invisible lint from her robes. Still, she had significantly relaxed. "If she doesn't kill you, telling Mai you're hosting a beautiful assassin will."

"Beautiful?"

"You are transparent as you are honourable." Azula smirked and crossed the room. "Things were getting boring here, anyway."

When she had left, Iroh dropped a hand onto the Fire Lord's shoulder. The muscles were strained and bunched beneath the skin.

"What is it, nephew?"

"I recognise her." Zuko murmured. He shook his head. "At least, I think I do."

Iroh watched him carefully as he murmured to himself.

"Her eyes…Uncle, where are the records from Ozai's reign? The villages his missionaries had invaded."

"Burned, as per his request."

"All of them?

"I'm afraid so. What is it?"

Zuko ran his thumb across the engravings on the hilt of her dagger. He handed it to his uncle, his most trusted adviser. "Do you recognise this language?"

Iroh hummed to himself, examining the knife closely. He patted his pockets for his glasses and perched them onto the tip of his nose. "Nánshao. They have distinct accents above their vowels, see? Incredibly difficult to learn. It is rarely spoken outside of a small Southern Water tribe."

"A Southern Water tribe? They don't have waterbenders."

"Don't let rumour dictate judgement, nephew. Our world is a vast one."

Zuko bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't like being blindsided.

Iroh noticed the shift in the room as his nephew fell into silent thought. He quietly left, the door clicking closed behind him. He wondered about what teas she would enjoy.

…

Katara waited thirty-five seconds till she rushed towards the door. She couldn't help the gasp that spilled out of her mouth when she turned the handle and the door obediently opened. No lock. No prison. Was this some sort of sick, twisted game? Was the Dragon King more of a sadistic fuck than she knew?

The door opened out into a roomy hall. Two guards flanked the door she peeked out of. There were two on either side of every door in the corridor. They did not look at her. They did not halt her or drag her kicking and screaming back into the room. Part of her begged for this to be a trick, just so she could be sure of something.

She slammed the door back shut. It's absurd, but in this room is where she felt safest.

Katara paced the room, gathering her thoughts. Colourful lanterns fell from the ceiling, pink and yellow and green. The largest oriental rug she had ever seen spread out over the moonstone floors. Plush pillows and inviting throws splayed over the floor. The extension beyond the screen doors was as she guessed it, a luxurious bathroom fit for greedy royalty. There was a round bathtub, large enough to swim in. It, like the sink and the toilet, were a white marble against four walls of beautifully crafted tiles. The water ran free from the taps. It pained her to be unable to bend it to her will. It flowed over her hands limply, but she felt her heart soar at it's cool touch. It had to be a ploy. To promise she could kill him, but rid her of her greatest weapon.

She breathed hard, her feet sore. She leaned against a scratchy wall, heaving till she calmed herself down. The wisest thing to do here was to leave. Get as far away from the Fire Lord and his mind games.

But to throw away the chance to kill him? Living in such close quarters with her target could only mean she would get her hands around his neck and squeeze hard enough to—it was too enticing. He knew that. He'd planned for this, her internal conflict. The thought alone was enough to stop her storm of thoughts and rush to the door. She yanked it open and broke into a run out of this wretched place when she collided with something—someone. Whoever it was steadied her with a firm hand on her arm. The other hand holds a tray full of food. The smell had her stomach churning. Katara looked up at the face. A woman, intimidatingly beautiful.

"Leaving so soon?" She asked with a red-lipped smirk.

Katara stepped backwards out of her reach, then a few hurried steps more till she was back in the room. She followed, gently kicking the door shut behind her. The waterbender backs up till her legs touch the edge of the bed. Her eyes search the woman's form for any sign of a weapon. The armour she wore hid any bulges of hidden knives.

She wasn't so helpless, herself. There were sconces along the walls she could rip out to stab her with. The armoire had golden handles she could unscrew and cork through her eye. The decorative tiles in the bathroom she could pry off and smash over her skull. She didn't look like she was here to hurt her. That didn't stop her from eyeing her suspiciously, nerves on edge, ready to attack.

She was striking. Her cheekbones were sharp and flushed, plump lips a rosy red. A tattoo poked out of the collar of her jacket, the ink on her skin spiralling out of her sleeves too. Her eyes were bright and familiar. No, familial. The cutting jawline and raven hair suddenly made sense. This was the beloved Princess the people spoke so fondly of. Azula, she remembered. She held herself with grace of a royal. The brutish emblem of the Wu sign for General on her uniform was impossible to miss. Katara was impressed, a female Army General? The crown Princess no less.

She planted the tray on the floor and slid it towards her. When she straightened, her hands were up in a gesture of surrender.

"I come in peace with plentiful food," she said, her lip curling in a way that made Katara blush. "Though, feel free to frisk me for reassurance."

That made the waterbender's eyes widen.

"I'm General Sozin. But you can call me Your Highness."

"General?" Katara said slowly. Azula's brows quirked at her accent.

"One of my many accolades." She smirked an easy, relaxed smirk. Like she wasn't speaking to the woman who tried to assassinate her brother and King. "And what do I call you, Lady…?"

"I am no Lady."

"Indeed." Azula drawled, her pink tongue sliding over her lip. The girl was rough around the edges, that was certain. But Azula hadn't seen something so delectable since Ty Lee wore those leather garters for her birthday.

The waterbender eyed her curiously. Did the people here have a fetish for exotic foreigners? She was surely sent her for some sort of manipulative scheme to get her talking. Yet. The General seemed too unapologetic to be so devious.

"Katara." She found herself saying. A large, seemingly vocal part of her wanted them to remember her name even if she left this place behind.

"Ka-ta-ra." Azula tested the name on her tongue, pleased with it. "You should try the komodo chicken, Katara. I hope you can handle spice."

She wasn't sure if they were still talking about food. She looked down at the lavish tray. There was steamed rice with what she guessed was the komodo chicken and a pile of hotcakes in a smaller bowl. By the plates were napkins, a tall glass of water and chopsticks. Her heart jumped into her throat when she spotted it. Her dagger. She was beautiful and unharmed.

"You're trusting an assassin with her knife?" Katara couldn't help but ask. She lifted her knife, testing the weight. She'd missed the warmth of the wooden hilt against her palm.

Azula shrugged an unbothered shoulder, leaning against the doors across from her. "A girl needs her sword." The General continued when she said nothing. "Besides, you won't kill me."

"Won't I?"

"Can't." She corrected, then smirked. "Though I haven't been choked in long, if you wanted to practise."

The waterbender stared at her in part-shock, part-unadulterated intrigue. "Are you flirting with me?"

"If I tell you my name will you say it in that delectable little accent of yours?"

Katara wanted to smile. It was considered a grave sin in the Northern tribes to seek the warmth of the same sex. She knew of a few friends from home who kept their sexuality a secret, denying even themselves the simple right of accepting who they were. But Azula, she was unrestrained. She wanted to trust her. She exuded confidence and brutal candour. If she wanted to stab someone, she'd face make sure they met her eyes. Shaking her head, Katara sharply pinched her wrist to snap herself out of it.

She took a bite out of the chicken. Her Highness was right. It was spicy but delicious. Her stomach churned loudly in appreciation. She tried to control the pace at which she ate even though her body ached for it. She dropped the chopsticks back onto the tray with a clatter after three more mouthfuls.

"What is all this?" There was urgency in her voice.

Azula rolled her lips together at the question. Her lipstick remained perfectly in place. "I know no more than you."

"I don't believe that."

The Princess smiled and crossed her arms. "The staff are under strict orders not to intervene with any of your future assassination attempts on the Fire Lord. You can leave the palace at any time. You will be given regular meals, fresh clothes and free reign. You're untouchable. What a shame."

Katara gawked at her. "You are not worried?"

Azula decided not to make any quips about her brother's reputation as the best firebender the nation had seen in a millennia. The girl would figure it out herself, if she chose to stay.

"If I wanted to die, I know I'd be happy if it was at the hands of a beautiful woman."

Heat bloomed in her cheeks despite herself. "Your King wants to die?"

"He wants you to live, it would seem."

Katara looked away. It rang true and that terrified her.

When she looked back at her, Azula was staring at her patiently. "I can't bend."

Her eyes gleamed. "Ah. We've been briefed on your particular," Eyes flicked over me in thinly-veiled admiration. "skill-sets."

The waterbender couldn't help it this time. She smiled, ducking her head and pushing food into her mouth to hide it. It brought her a certain kind of satisfaction to see them fear her and her skill-sets.

"The tea will leave your system in a few days. The dosage cooked into your food will take a week." Katara stopped chewing abruptly. "If you choose to stay, and vow not to attempt harm on anyone else other than your mark, you will have your bending back soon enough — for fairness sake. Otherwise, the door is right here."

It sounded more like a proposition than an ultimatum as her supple body leant back against the heavy wood of the door. Katara swallowed hard. Inhaling through her nose, she slid her tray towards the other girl's boots.

"So use it, Azula."

The General smirked, slow and almost approving. She nodded once, took the tray and left.

Katara fell back onto the sheets and screamed into her hands.


End file.
